Aimless projects
Endless stuff
The house on the hill
Filled with objects
Never felt full enough

We never leapt a hurdle
We would just turn and run
Now what is left
After the living's done

Heavy-hearted
Weighed down with worry and doubt
I waited around to get started
Then all of my time ran out

But suddenly
Life's all around us
Warm as a winter's sun
So what is left
After the living's done

There's always a door
To different, or better, or more
We have the chalk
We could draw one and walk
Like all of the doorways
We walked through before